


Dream Boats

by emirrart



Series: Dorian Gray [3]
Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, a fuckin' wild ride coming up, i hate henry but this was a better fit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emirrart/pseuds/emirrart
Summary: Henry is accidentally smooth and I hate him.(also in this one everyone accepts that gay ppl exist bc its much easier to write about)based on the second prompt from "642 Stories to Write"





	Dream Boats

Dorian grips his champagne glass with both hands, staring at the immense amount of figures in the room. He only knew one of the many people, that being Basil, but the painter was across the hall, attempting to extend his contact list by talking to whoever looked like they may appreciate art. Mostly tall, dark, brooding men, and women with dresses too large for the doorways, a cacophony of colourful fabrics littering their skirts in a delightfully horrific design.

"Ghastly, aren't they?" A man behind him claims, taking a champagne flute from the table.

Dorian, startled, turns to look at the speaker. "Excuse me?" he asks, knitting his eyebrows.

"The dresses, boy. no woman should ever wear more than three colours on a skirt, let alone as many as _she_ has." The other man says, taking a sip of his drink and nodding towards a plump woman near the food table, wearing a truly horrendous discord of pale yellows, dark greens, oversaturated browns, bold purples and brash silvers layered atop one another, with orange butterfly-looking decorations making her look like an unkempt fern painted by a colour-blind child.

Dorian looks away, and nods guiltily. He had to agree. It truly was an eyesore of a garment.

"I think us men are much more easy to handle when it comes to clothes. All we must do is look tall and proud in a suit of some kind, and we're sorted." The taller man states.

"Either way, modern clothes are terribly uncomfortable, for both men and women." Dorian speaks up.

"Only if you never grew accustomed to them growing up. My mother used to force me into ugly little baby suits before I was even considered a child. In fact, I don't think I've felt a seam in years." The man chortles, taking another sip.

Dorian looks at him for a moment, and takes a long drink of his own champagne.

"So, what do you prefer?" The elder man asks.

"Sorry?"

"Which party do you speak for?"

"I don't think I understand..."

"When it comes to people, are you "ambidextrous" per say?"

Dorian shoots him a questioning glance, and takes an awkward sip of his drink.

"My God, man. Do you like men?" The man responds bluntly.

Dorian sputters, and spills a little alcohol on his shirt in an embarrassed choke. The whiskered man chuckles, handing him an embroidered handkerchief.

"Shall I take that as a no?" He asks.

"Oh! Um, well..." Dorian stumbles over his words for a minute, and glances in Basil's general direction while patting his cuffs dry. "I don't really have a preference, per say..."

"Ah, so you're a switch-hitter?"

Dorian giggles, and blushes nervously. "I guess you could say that..."

"I, personally prefer men." The taller man states.

Dorian doesn't know how to respond.

The two men stare out at the sea of people, almost seeming as if they were looking for a specific person to talk about. Dorian spots Basil being particularly close with a tall, bespectacled man with shaggy brown hair, and laughing at something one of them had said.

"So, do you have anyone in mind?" The other man asks.

"Pardon?"

"Is there anyone you imagine being with? You know, a sort of Prince Charming sort of ordeal?" The man questions, looking directly at Dorian.

Dorian blushes, but shakes his head.

"I do." the other says.

Dorian considers asking about this 'Prince Charming', but is met with a premature response.

"My aunt told me about this lovely lad. 'Bright blue eyes that seem like they could make the darkest days bright' she said. Sounds childish, right? 'Light blonde hair that reflects sand on a fine beach' she told me."

Dorian stares at the man, a questioning stare that makes the man smirk.

"This will sound ridiculous, but the way she described him made me fall in love with him in an instant. She told me all about how she had met him at a theatre viewing of a terrible attempt at playwriting 'A Christmas Carol.' I believe it played last month, in the Old Vic."

Dorian's eyes widen. "I saw that play! It truly was terrible!"

The man laughs and looks away, back into the crowd. "What a small world."

Dorian hazards a question. "Did she tell you this man's name? I should love to know."

"His name was Dorian Gray."


End file.
